His storyMatthew Williamson, 41, designer

My mum was a ray of light among the mundane, suburban, although not at all bad, environment I grew up in in Manchester. She brought an optimism to my life: the way she dressed and the way she used clothes as a tool to better herself had a huge influence on me. Despite the pressure I felt as a child and a teenager to conform, Mum allowed me to realise that being different wasn't a bad thing – that it was OK to express myself and be creative. She was the one and only reason I felt able to be who I am.

Leaving Manchester when I was 18 was bittersweet for us both [Williamson had been accepted on a course at Central Saint Martins]. I was aware that she was worried about me disappearing to London. I, on the other hand, found it very difficult and struggled for the four years I was at college because I felt I went a little prematurely. When I graduated and decided to start my own business, she and my dad decided to rent out their house and move to London to help me for the first year – they ended up staying for seven. Initially, they moved into the bedsit I shared with my then-partner, Joseph. Mum became a part of my world, and we both loved it. As the business grew, she became exposed to an amazing lifestyle and she just drank it in – she had the most fabulous time.

When she and my dad made the decision to go back to Manchester it was quite a shock for me. She was key to my business and it took me time to adjust. Mum is so ingrained in my life and she has the most amazing way about her – people have always gravitated towards her because she's warm and caring and genuine. She's just got a million qualities that I wish I had a tiny bit of.

'We bought him a sewing machine when he was 14 – not the usual gift you'd buy your teenage son.'

Her storyMaureen Williamson, 65, retired

Matthew was a beautiful baby and I always felt a very strong bond with him growing up – a nice closeness. He was very observant as a child: he spent a lot of time sitting on the edge of my bed from about 10, watching me lay out outfits for the next day at work, and he'd love to chat about it.

We bought him a sewing machine when he was 14 years old – not the usual gift you'd buy your teenage son, but by then he was hand-sewing little ra-ra skirts for his girl friends at school. He wasn't your typical teenager. He didn't rebel, we didn't fall out or argue.

It's a cliché, but it's fabulous for me to have watched him blossom into the person he is. The only time I've ever been worried that we'd drift apart was when he was moving to London, but that couldn't have been further from the truth. He was ringing all the time and, if anything, we grew closer.

When we moved to London to help Matthew and his fledgling business, I worked harder and longer than I ever had before. It felt like the right thing to do and, because he's my child, I wanted to do all I could to help. It was a tough but an amazing experience to go through together, and made us even closer.

I get emotional talking about him because it serves as a reminder of how much he's achieved – and how proud of him I am. Matthew makes me realise that I can do things. His belief in me has buoyed me. I feel more confident because of him. He's isn't afraid to say what he thinks; he always makes me feel good and as if I can do anything. To have had a son like him has been a gift.